


Bloodlines

by tenshinokorin



Series: The World Can Wait [31]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Multi, The World Can Wait, bishonenink classics, no unsolicited concrit please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22587322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenshinokorin/pseuds/tenshinokorin
Summary: How do you hide from an enemy that sleeps under the skin? (circa 2002)
Relationships: Elena/Reeve Tuesti, Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Series: The World Can Wait [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622164
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some extra disclaimers: So normally, I wouldn't give support OCs as much screen time as this, at least not these days. But our version of Reno's family--especially his three brothers--was moderately popular at the time, and they had their own set of fans who wanted to see more of them. They also worked well as a set of supporting characters to do some of the background heavy lifting, and helped with building the post-game status quo. (Reno's family was inspired by Tamahome's family in Fushigi Yuugi, as we liked the concept of them but not the unfortunate outcome. The boys, as you may have noticed, share Reno's naming convention by being named after cities in the US West.) Angelo serves mostly as a way to talk about Frost from an outsider's perspective (being someone who doesn't know his true identity) and to offer a flip side to the memory of Hojo. I realize now I could have brought in someone like Shera to do that, but I didn't, because to this day she still annoys the hell out of me. 
> 
> Also, my biology 101 level research for this story is, I don't doubt, woefully inadequate as well as inaccurate. Please overlook it as you would any other dated technobabble. 
> 
> And lastly, I have to admit that I'm pretty pleased with how closely this tracks with the plot of Advent Children. After all, the concept of the Jenova Virus is right there in the game.

"...so you see why I need your assistance, Mr. Wallace." 

Barret frowned suspiciously at Rufus. "Not sure I trust you guys, no matter what Cloud says." 

Rufus steepled his fingers on his desk, eyeing Barret levelly. "I realize you have sufficient reason for doubting me, as do the citizens of North Corel. I am not expecting an immediate answer. Take some time to think it over and discuss the idea with your friends." Rufus stood up and circled his desk. "The system of checks and balances our two groups have established should prevent any problems. Avalanche and Shinra are the closest thing to a planetary government we have, Mr. Wallace. Your group can, at any time, call a halt to the project if it interferes with your ecological and work standards. I'm sure Reeve would be delighted to show any of you the plans for the hydroelectric plant; he's terribly proud of it." Rufus folded his arms, looking thoughtful. "Look, Barret. Dio has hired us to provide electrical power to the Gold Saucer area, and that includes Corel. North Corel needs economic stimulation badly, and I need workers. I would rather not bring them in from somewhere else. Once the plant is completed it will still need maintenance, administration. Ideally, Corel could build and run the thing. I've got too much to do and too few people on my hands. You are the ideal liaison." 

Barret stood up, slowly. "Last time I convinced them to trust you, my hometown was burned to the ground." 

Some flicker of emotion moved across Rufus's face, and he nodded. "I understand what you're saying. But please be aware that Heidigger, Scarlet, and... my father," his eyes narrowed, slightly, "are no longer part of this operation." 

_In other words_ , Barret thought, _they're dead. For the Shinra, that's the same thing as fired_. "Still cool as a cucumber, ain't ya?" Barret scratched his chin with his non-gun hand, and squinted down at Rufus, sizing him up. "What happened to the guy who said he'd control the world through fear?" 

Rufus's lip twitched. "Hadn't you heard?" he asked, dryly. "He was killed when Diamond weapon blew his office to hell." 

Barret chuckled. He had to admit, there was something about Rufus that was not what he remembered of the man on the Shinra rooftop. "All right. I'll see what the others think about it, and I'll ask around Corel. If it seems best, maybe." 

Rufus smiled. "Thanks for coming up. Reno will show you out, just let us know when you've decided." 

The red-haired Turk, quiet as he was, still had a presence as subtle as a machine gun at a formal ball. He pushed himself up from the doorway, and nodded at Barret. Barret stiffened a bit, but gestured for Reno to lead the way. 

When the door closed, Rufus sank back in his chair and sighed, rubbing his temples. "Gods, I don't suppose you could dig my father up and kill him again for me, could you?" 

Tseng, who had been silent and invisible in an alcove behind Rufus's chair, emerged into the afternoon light. "I'm afraid not. Although he does still seem to be able to cause you problems." 

"Idiots. All of them. Fear I can do. Awe. Respect. That might get you somewhere. Open terrorism, no. Burning Corel to the ground, dropping plates on half the city, my god, what a _Moron_." Rufus rummaged in his desk drawer, opened a bottle, tossed three painkillers into his hand, and downed them with the glass of water Tseng offered him. "Thanks." 

"I'm sure he had no idea it would cause you difficulty." Tseng sat down in the chair Barret had just abandoned. "Or he would have burned Corel sooner, and for less reason." 

Rufus ran his hands through his hair, staring at the papers on his desk. "If he can't convince them we're fucked. We need this project desperately. Dio is the only person on the planet with enough money to give us sufficient working capital. The location is ideal, everything, if we can just get them to trust us." 

Tseng stood up and crossed behind Rufus's desk, putting his hands on Rufus's shoulders. "I've never seen you work so hard." 

Rufus sighed, letting Tseng's fingers dig the tension out of his back. "You were dead, the last time. I didn't sleep for two weeks straight." 

"You sure you're up to this? " Tseng let concern creep into his voice, hands going still. 

"We can't afford to wait, Tseng. I didn't make it this far by missing opportunities." 

  


"I haven't forgotten, you know," Barret growled, eyeing the lanky Turk. "Sector seven. That was you. Who knows what Biggs'n them would say." 

Reno stopped on the landing, looking up at Barret. "Look, I was just doing my job. It's all said and done, anyway." 

"I ain't so sure," Barret retorted. 

Reno's too green eyes narrowed dangerously. "I wasn't the one breaking the law," he said, and kept walking.

Barret scowled, but had no answer to that. "Rufus... is he like his old man?" 

Reno shrugged. "We wouldn't be here if he was." 

"Hmph." Barret tromped down the stairs, elbowing Reno out of the way. "Don't know how Cloud trusts any of you, secretive bastards. Wouldn't be surprised if you'd dug up Sephiroth to -ooph!" 

"Excuse me." 

"Nah, I didn't mean to-" Barret got a good look at who he'd bumped into on the stairs. Tall, damn tall, with a southern-climes tan and short pale hair like snow, bangs dangling over mirrored sunglasses. "Hey, you-" 

"You should watch your step, on these stairs," the stranger said, and walked past him, nodding at Reno who gestured to Rufus's office. 

"He's in, just go ahead." 

"Thank you, Reno."

Reno shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled down the stairs past Barret, whistling. He turned when he got to the bottom floor and saw Barret, still staring at Rufus's closed door. "Hey, you comin'?" 

Barret pointed with his gun arm. "Who the hell wazzat?" 

Reno blinked innocence. "Who was who? Oh, him. That's just Frost. One of our new scouts. Runs a bar in Costa Del Sol. Why, you know him?" 

Barret flushed, looking furious. "You think I hang out in bars like you? I'm respectable, dammit! Now get me outta this ghost house." He fumed right past Reno to the door and Reno, feeling smug, winked at himself in the foyer mirror before following. 

  


He was considerably less smug when he came back up, as he knocked on Rufus' office door and opened it at the same time. Frost was already gone again. "Hey, Boss. Can I talk to you, for a second?" 

Tseng frowned disapprovingly, and Reno added a belated, "Sir." 

Rufus sighed, shoving papers aside. "It's all right, Tseng. We share a bathroom, there's not much formality left. What's on your mind, Reno?" 

Reno came into the room the rest of the way and shut the door behind him. "Are we still needing people?" 

Rufus smoothed back his hair, but he still looked ruffled, and seemed to be talking to himself. "Always. Trying to start up a corporation with two strings and an elastic band, this is madness." 

"I know some people who'd be good." Reno actually looked pensive, leaning on the back of the guest chair. "If you're interested." 

Rufus's eyes twitched upward to Reno, his hands going still. "Ones who'd work for free?" 

Reno shrugged. "I think they'd settle for one of the empty houses in town, maybe a few gil an hour." 

Rufus blinked. "Your family. Meteor, I never asked-" 

Reno waved a hand. "Nah, nah, they're fine. But my brothers are out of work, my sisters have all got pretty faces, and I don't want them resorting to anything...you know, stupid." 

Tseng and Rufus were both thoughtfully quiet, aware of Reno's occupation and history prior to becoming a Turk. 

"What are they good at?" Rufus asked at last. "I can't hire your entire family-" 

Reno shook his head. "Most of the girls are all too young for work, but they'd do running errands stuff for us free of charge, probably." Reno paused. "I just want them out of what's left of Midgar, Rufus. And like I said, they won't ask for much more than a place to stay." 

Rufus sighed. "Well, they can have one of the empty houses in town. How many brothers have you _got_ , anyway?" 

"Three," Reno said, and couldn't stop grinning. "And five sisters. You mean it, I can bring them?" 

"Rude was heading to Kalm to take Barret back." Tseng said, smiling faintly. "You can catch a ride with him, if you're not too late." 

Both of them were treated to the rare sight of Reno looking completely and utterly grateful. "Rufus, Tseng, I-" 

"Get going, Reno." Rufus said. 

Reno got, ponytail flying. "Yo! Rude! Wait up!" 

"A whole army of Renos, Rufus. You sure you can handle that?" 

Rufus grinned. "If they'd work for cheap, Tseng, I'd hire gargoyles." 

Tseng quirked an eyebrow. "Gargoyles talk less." 

  


At six-thirty the next morning, gargoyles were the furthest thing from Rufus's mind. What was on his mind was the god awful noise coming from outside his window, like someone was trying to stuff a chocobo through an espresso machine. 

"What in the name of the Ancients _is_ that?" Rufus lifted his head from Tseng's arm, blinking in the early morning grayness of their room. "And can you shoot it for me?" 

"I'll find out," Tseng said, making to get up. It was hard, since Rufus was wrapped bodily around him and showed no signs of moving. 

"Don't you dare," Rufus said, as sulky sleepy as he'd ever been when he was a spoiled brat. "You're a Turk, aren't you? Can't you shoot them from here?" 

Tseng chuckled, and Rufus made a noise in his throat and shoved his head firmly into his bodyguard's armpit, arms wrapped around him. "No," he said, muffled under the blankets, and Tseng's chuckle became a full fledged laugh. 

"Rufus, you sound like a little boy." 

"Mmm-mm," Rufus said, burrowing deeper. "You block the sound."

Tseng had given up and pulled the blankets back around them when the awful racket from outside stopped with deafening silence. Rufus had barely pulled his head up when another noise began, the smooth, drowsy hum of a helicopter. Dim over the muted roaring were a few whoops of victory. 

Rufus furrowed gold brows. "That's not our regular chopper, is it?" 

Tseng slithered out of his grasp, and this time Rufus let him go, the tall Turk pulling back the heavy brocade curtain to look out into their backyard. "Better get dressed, I think." Tseng let the curtain fall. "This has to be seen to be believed." 

  


"What in nine hells is going on out here?" Elena had beaten Rufus and Tseng to the backyard, and she was dressed haphazardly in wrinkled jeans and a shirt that looked suspiciously like one of Reeve's. 

"My question exactly, Elena." Rufus' blue eyes slid speculatively over the helicopter, silent now, with the hood up and someone's backside poking up out of it. 

"Okay, Diego, what's the gauge say now?" 

"Seven point three, and Phoenix, we've got company." 

The backside in the helicopter's innards reversed itself, and a pair of green eyes blinked innocently at the trio of sleep-deprived Shinra. "Aah! Good Morning!" 

Rufus's first thought was that Reno must have contracted some form of insanity, to be up this early _and_ hard at work. But the redheaded young man with Reno's easy grin was thicker of build than the lanky Turk, and his face was younger and marked only by smear of motor grease. "Excuse me for not being fond of strangers on my property, but who the hell are you?" 

The young man stuck out his hand, and then sheepishly wiped his fingers on his jeans. "Phoenix Montague. Reno's brother? He said you guys had a chopper that wasn't working." Phoenix jerked his thumb back at the helicopter. "This is a model 4RX-5, right? Great machine. Looks like you used it for a salad shooter, though. What happened?" 

"It was hit by my Lover's Day Curse." Elena folded her arms. "It hasn't worked since." 

Phoenix grinned, and yelled over his shoulder. "Oi! Diego! Punch it!" 

The helicopter obligingly roared to life, without the tubercular wheezing of the other Shinra craft. Rufus raised his eyebrows. "You repaired it?" 

Phoenix shrugged. "You gave us a place to live," he said, as if the payment and price was as simple as that. 

"Can you fly these?" Rufus asked, as the helicopter powered down with a demure hum, blades swishing lazily through the air. 

"Damn straight I can." Phoenix shoved his hands in his pockets. "Used to charter flights for Don Corneo before his rather _fortunate_ demise." Phoenix's malicious grin left no doubt about his feelings towards his former employer, or that he was Reno's sibling. "And while I relieved his digs for any valuables in lieu of severance pay, it did screw me in terms of a job." 

"I can fix the job part," Rufus said, nodding once. "We can always use an extra pilot. I'm due in Corel this afternoon, would you be available?" 

Phoenix blinked, then smiled broadly. "No problem. It's been kinda tight since Meteor." 

"It certainly put the Honey Bee under." Diego emerged from the chopper's cockpit. "Good to see you doing all right, sir." He nodded to Tseng. 

Tseng lowered his eyebrows. "Have we met?" 

Diego was Phoenix's mirror image, only with spikier bangs, more piercings, and a haphazard ponytail reminiscent of his eldest brother's. "I used to work as the bouncer at the 'Bee in Wall Market. You came in to interview the girls sometimes, to see if they had any info for you." Diego's eyes narrowed in a smile. "They always said you were really nice to 'em, that they'd try and find out stuff just to tell you." 

Tseng nodded, satisfied now that he could place Diego's features. "Ah, yes. They were always quite useful informants. You never mentioned being Reno's brother at the time, did you?" 

Diego shrugged. "Didn't want to seem like I was namedropping, sir." 

"This is all great but I'm going back to bed," Elena grumbled, stalking between Rufus and Tseng, towards the back door. 

"Right." Rufus nodded once. "I'll have Rude down to show you how to log in the fuel usage before you tank up. Tseng and I will be ready in two hours, Phoenix. We'll see about taking you on regularly after that." He turned to go back to the mansion but paused, interrupting Phoenix and Diego's gleeful moment of celebration. "Oh, and just so you know? Start up helicopters before dawn again, and I'll blow your head off." 

Phoenix got the impression that Rufus wasn't kidding. "Yes, sir." 

  


"Well, at least no one seems to be plotting revolution. Yet." Rufus ran his fingers through his hair. "The system of government seems to be working-for now." 

"I haven't heard anything about Wutai. It's probable that they'll go back to their pre-war laws. They only barely were under our control, anyway." Frost sat in the chair opposite Rufus's desk with the air of one more comfortable standing at a camp table and reviewing enemy movements. Or maybe that was just Rufus's impression of him, from the first time he'd seen the man. 

_"My men are being decimated by land mines, I've lost three to quicksand and half of company B is down with some sort of fever. They aren't prepared for this kind of warfare, it's not in their training."_

_"What do you suggest, then?"_

_"Give me a small force of SOLDIER. I'll lead them right into the capital. We'll have the city in a week."_

_A snort, as of disbelief. "Can it be done?"_

_He had smiled, slowly. "It can by me, sir."_

Rufus had learned much about the world through keyholes, in those days. "Well, you would know, wouldn't you?" 

Frost shrugged. "I haven't been there in years. Wutai may become a threat, eventually. At the moment they haven't the technology to be a concern." 

Rufus sighed. "I should get that Avalanche girl in about it... Kisagari? Should keep us from having our throats slit in the night." 

"Cloud says she's only barely trustworthy around your valuables, but she's not an outright traitor. I'll have him speak to her." Frost tilted his head, sunglasses reflecting the clock above Rufus's head. "Speaking of. He's late." 

There was a commotion just then under the broad window of Rufus's office, people and chocobos all vying for who could talk the loudest. Rufus sighed at his contract for the Corel dam. "That'll be him now." 

Three minutes later Cloud burst into Rufus's office unannounced, still dusty from the road and with his saddlebags slung over one shoulder, spurs clanging on the parquet floor. 

"Cloud's here," Reno said, strolling in after him. 

"Thank you, Reno," Rufus said. "I figured that out." 

Frost stood up, his head lowered so that a sliver of green iris showed above his sunglasses as Cloud gulped down the water Reno poured him from the cooler in the corner. "Something is wrong." Frost did not make it a question. 

Cloud nodded, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, leaving a clean, wet smear on his dusty face. "Corel. We've got major problems." He raked his fingers though his hair, pushing it out of mako-blue eyes that stood out in sharp contrast to his tan skin. 

"Hells," Rufus muttered. "Is there something wrong with the preparations? The negotiations?" 

The look Cloud shot Rufus seemed to say that he thought the president of Shinra might need to get his priorities in order, but he only shook his head. "Not the hydroelectric plans. They're sick." 

Rufus arched an eyebrow. "Sick? They seemed to be fine when I was there week before last." 

Cloud pulled the saddlebag off his shoulder, groaning. He'd obviously been riding hard, and for a long time. "Just started a few days ago. Didn't seem like anything serious at first. Lightheaded, fainting spells, things like that." 

Frost tilted his chair towards Cloud, and he sank into it gratefully. "Overnight it turned into dangerously high fevers, delirium, respiratory problems. Nothing works, cures are useless and materia seems to make it worse. We've tried every kind of standard drug available. I hauled the doctor up from Mideel but he's baffled. Says he's afraid it'll turn tubercular and then they'll be drowning in their beds. We've got them on oxygen for now, but our equipment is antique and--" 

Frost lowered pale eyebrows. "How many cases?" 

Cloud sighed. "Right now, twenty-six. All in that area, but if it spreads..." Cloud gestured uselessly. "I thought that Seph-- I thought Frost could -" 

Rufus glanced up at Frost. "You are the closest thing to a biologist we have, I'm afraid. And a plague is the last thing we need. But if we could earn some goodwill in Corel..." He let the thought hang.

"Understood." Frost pushed his sunglasses up, veiling his eyes. "I'll need blood samples, though." He added, his fingers tightening on the back of Cloud's chair. "Cloud, were you able to--" 

"Here." Cloud lifted his saddlebags. "Vincent took them." He frowned at Reno. "Makes me wonder exactly what all you train your Turks at." He passed a wrapped package to Frost. "We packed them in with some ice materia." 

Frost nodded, "That was intelligent of you. Rufus, if I may use the basement laboratory of the mansion?" 

Rufus looked surprised. "You?" 

Frost almost, maybe, smiled. "My facilities in Costa Del Sol won't do; and I am not a sentimental man, Rufus." 

Rufus narrowed his eyes. "No, you wouldn't be. Of course, use whatever you need." 

"I should go ask Shera for some equipment and set up here." He paused, thinking. "I could use an assistant, if you have anyone to spare." 

Cloud started to stand. "I can--" 

Frost put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down, gently. "Even if you weren't spent, Strife, you need to get back to Corel, to keep us informed. Besides, I need someone who knows one end of a test tube from the other."

From the water cooler, Reno cleared his throat and shrugged. "I know somebody who does." 

  


Angelo hated being late. It wasn't as though he hadn't tried to impress upon his older siblings his desire to maintain a certain professional attitude to the Shinra, and meeting his new research partner when he was panting for breath with his shirt sticking to his back and his ponytail coming undone was hardly the first impression Angelo wanted to make. This Frost guy was Shinra's best scientist, and Angelo should kiss Reno's feet for giving him a chance--at least according to Reno. Not that Angelo wasn't grateful, it would have just been a bit better if Reno had said something other than "He's leaving in two minutes though, so move it, kiddo." 

The chocobo brought him up short. Angelo was a city boy in the truest sense of the word; he was twelve before he ever saw the sky, and it was only a handful of months ago that he'd first seen it as it should be: blue, not choked with green mako-haze or hidden behind a steel plate. But he had seen chocobos, on TV or in the occasional petting zoo, their dirty yellow feathers drooping. He'd never seen a bird like this. 

Black. Glossy black feathers like a raven's iridescent wing, rustling as he preened one outstretched wing. He eyed Angelo with a glittering, clear blue eye as he groomed himself, unblinking and suspicious. 

"Hello," Angelo tried, not sure what to say to an unfriendly chocobo. He didn't remember them having such sharp-looking talons on their clawed feet. 

The bird gave a snort, running his ebony beak through gleaming feathers. It must be one of the Shinra birds, Angelo thought. He'd seen the standard yellow ones, and even a flash of gold flank as Cassie, sitting in the window of their new house, gave a delighted shout as Cloud rushed by on his way to the mansion. He wondered, reaching out a hand to the bird who deigned to let him pat its head, who this sable chocobo belonged to. 

"I'm impressed," someone said, from the other side of the gate-post. "He's got an ill temper, that one." 

Angelo yanked back his hand as if the chocobo was the proverbial cookie-jar, and looked up at the speaker. And up. Angelo hated being short even more than he hated being late. 

"Erm," Angelo said, brilliantly. 

"His name is Dante." The stranger held out one gloved hand and the chocobo made a soft pleased 'kweh', nuzzling against him. "You must be one of Reno's brothers." 

Angelo struggled not to scowl. It was perpetually aggravating to be designated by one's older sibling. "I'm Angelo," he said, and remembered his mission. "Are you with the Shinra? Do you know a man named Frost?" 

His mouth twitched. "Are you looking for him?" 

Angelo nodded. "Reno said he needed me for a research partner, but he only just told me three seconds ago, gods I don't know why Reno has a job and I don't, irresponsible..." 

"Do you know how to ride chocobos?" the stranger interrupted, loosening Dante's reins from the gate-post. 

Angelo looked doubtfully at the chocobo, who eyed him just as doubtfully back. "Er, no. I've never been on one." 

"It's simple enough." He waved to someone across the yard and a moment later, to Angelo's astonishment, Jess Montague jogged over, leading a chocobo of a pale blue color that Angelo had only seen before in cotton candy. He boggled at the oldest of his sisters, and the bird. 

"Jess, what're-" 

"Is this the one you wanted, Mr. Frost?" Jess scratched the bird under its chin, as it warked and jostled a bit at the prospect of getting out. 

"Frost?" Angelo echoed, looking back at the tall man, with his striking white hair and the sleek mirrored sunglasses. He really should have guessed. It had to be an alias; it was too accurate for a given name. Code or no, Angelo could not fathom what other name would suit him. 

"It's simple enough." Frost said, handing Angelo the reins. "The hardest part is getting on. Tuck your knees under their wings and rock forward as they run; it's really quite instinctive." Frost swung onto Dante and Angelo didn't have enough eyes to see where he put his knees and his hands and how he didn't fall back off. "The sooner you learn, the better. We're likely to be on them a lot." 

"C'mon, Ang'lo." Jess winked at him. "I'll give you a boost." 

Angelo glared at his sister. "What are you _doing_ here?" he hissed.

She shrugged. "I'm taking care of the birds for Rufus. Little critters seem to like me." As if in agreement, the blue ruffled his beak through Jess's cropped red hair. "Now get up, don't keep Frost waiting." 

It would seem, (Angelo mused, as he finally got into the saddle, cheeks burning) that Frost was either dead polite or used to idiots, because he courteously turned the other way as Angelo clambered ungracefully onto the bird that kept trying to wiggle out from under him. He clutched the reins and tried not too look like he was holding on for dear life, muttering a grateful prayer to the planet that Phoenix and Diego hadn't been here to see that. They'd give him hell over it for weeks. The black chocobo Dante danced in a little anxious circle, making an eager noise in his throat, and Frost nodded at Angelo. "Rocket Town has some supplies we need for the lab. Shera is a rocket scientist, not a biologist, but she does have some useful equipment. I'm likely to send you there from time to time, so try and remember the way." 

Angelo nodded. He could do this. It was what he was good at. "Yes, Sir." 

Frost nodded once, and Dante burst down the street in a flurry of black feathers and powerful clawed feet. Jess gave Angelo's blue a good swat and it shot after the other bird, in much more of a haphazard fashion. Angelo was too busy trying to stay on to remember that he really had no idea what Frost needed a research partner _for_.


	2. Chapter 2

"I would have thought you'd be asleep by now." 

Rufus glanced up from the laptop balanced on his knees, and shook his head. He sat cross-legged on the bed, his two lean, sharp-faced bloodhounds sprawled happily on their master's feet. 

The dogs were something of a rare breed, like Rufus's late Dark Nation. Rude had found them on a supply run in Mideel, and remembering the fifty-pound bred killer (that had answered to Natti and had a passion for cheese-puffs from the lounge vending machines), brought them back to Rufus. Rufus had to admit he had missed the company of canines, especially big, intelligent, protective ones. It was not unlike having two extra Turks in the house. They were both black, and had registered names of Fallen Metropolis and Demons Be Gone, but they answered regularly to Metro and Demon, respectively. They were still slightly puppies, not grown all the way into their feet, and Elena said that Metro was fine as a name for a dog but Demon was a bit much, as he mostly laid around and hoped for bits of discarded chocolate frosted doughnuts. With sprinkles. He wouldn't eat them without. 

"I'm just working on a few things," Rufus nodded at the program he was running, and reached down to scratch Metro's belly. "These sheets aren't going to spread themselves, you know." 

Tseng shook out his shower-wet hair, and draped the towel over the end of the wrought-iron bed. "The only sheets you should be spreading are the bedsheets, Rufus. You look exhausted." 

Rufus tapped at the keyboard. "Nothing of the sort." He smoothed back his hair, and became intent on the screen, as if that would mask the shadows around his eyes. "I have to get this done before I go up to Corel in the morning." 

Tseng frowned. "I would rather it be one of us, Rufus. You needn't go." 

"They won't trust a messenger, Tseng." Rufus typed one-handed, the other occupied with Demon's ears. "We've only just gotten them to listen to us, I have to go myself. It's the only way they'll trust us." 

"I don't want you exposed to that virus," Tseng said. Even in his bathrobe, he gave the impression of a suit, something about the precisely tied sash or the way the left side overlapped the right at the exact middle of his chest. 

"Cloud and Frost have both made trips in, and show no signs of falling ill. I will only be there a few hours at most, and I promise not to drink anything. I'll be fine." Rufus looked up, to see that Tseng was still scowling. "I'll take every precaution," Rufus said, and his tone had less of the President in it, and more of the lover. "Really. Don't worry." 

"I give you no promises on that," Tseng said, but he sat down, and deigned to pet Metro's sleek head. "I'd be happier if Phoenix kept the both of you grounded tomorrow, but I know better than to try to convince you." He reached out, and gently pried the laptop from Rufus's hands. "But for now, you rest." 

Rufus must have been tired, not to put up a fight, and to let Tseng pull back the coverlet. "You've gotten worse, lately," Rufus chided, tangling his fingers in Tseng's damp hair. 

"Worse?" Tseng inquired, leaning over him. 

"Fussing over me," Rufus smiled. "Like I was a prized possession." 

Tseng brushed his lips over Rufus's forehead. "You are my only treasure, Rufus." 

The dogs, knowing their master well enough and sensing that a voluntary retreat would be better than an ordered one, quietly hopped down from the bed, tags jangling, and curled up on the braided rug on the floor. 

  


"...have isolated the main viral structure but we're not sure of the antibody, yet." Frost stood almost unnaturally still, never shifting his weight, barely even moving his head as he gave his report. It gave Angelo the creeps. "My assistant," Frost continued, and Angelo jumped, realizing he was being discussed, "thinks there may be a way to prepare a vaccine from a survivor, but we need both a weaker strain of the virus and, to put it bluntly, a survivor. No one has died yet, but they aren't getting any better, either. they haven't produced sufficient antibodies to use as a basis for a replicant vaccine." 

Rufus shook himself, blinking. "I'm sorry, Frost, what was that?" 

Out of the corner of his eye, Angelo saw Tseng shoot Rufus a concerned look, but Rufus sat calmly at his desk, cool and unruffled as ever. 

"The virus is mutating at a--" Frost began again, after the slightest pause, smooth as a recording being replayed. 

Rufus raised a hand. "No, no, that's all right, Frost. You needn't go through the whole thing again. Science was never my best subject. I leave it in your hands." Rufus stood up, his chair rolling smoothly back. "Angelo, anything either of you need, ask Tseng. We'll do our best to procure supplies. If Cloud brings word of anyone recovering from the virus, I'll have someone fly you... down to..." Rufus swayed on the spot, and put a hand to his forehead. "Your pardon, gentlemen. I didn't get back until late last night." 

"Understood." Frost said, but Tseng's expression had grown darker, and he had moved away from the window to be closer to Rufus. Rufus shook his head slightly, and made a small impatient gesture with one hand, but Tseng did not retreat. 

"Cloud has gold chocobos available at the mansion, should you need to be somewhere faster than the chopper. Is the lab suiting your purposes?" 

"It's wonderful," Angelo said, before he could catch himself, and colored a bit when everyone else turned to look at him. "That is, ah, I'm glad of it." 

Rufus smiled at him wanly. He must have slept badly or stayed up late, Angelo figured, since Phoenix had come back well before midnight, and slept the night through. "Glad to hear you're settling in, Angelo. We have need of a good biologist, if Frost is willing to train you once this crisis is over." 

Angelo hoped he wasn't grinning stupidly, but he had the distinct impression he might be. "I would like that very much, sir." 

"Right then." Rufus nodded at them. "I'm sure you have much to do. Let me know immediately if you have any breakthroughs, and I expect regular updates on your progress." 

Frost tilted his head. "Sir." 

Angelo had already turned to open the door, and so did not see Rufus as his knees buckled, only hearing the muffled thump as his body hit the thick carpet. 

"Rufus!" Tseng was by Rufus's side in a second, and lifted the President's limp body. Frost was almost as fast, kneeling down and checking Rufus's pulse. Tseng glanced up at Angelo, who had frozen in shock, wondering if Rufus was prone to fainting spells. From the look on Tseng's face, he guessed he wasn't. "Get Rude," Tseng said. "Now." 

It took Angelo a second to realize that Tseng was speaking to him directly. He never had, before. He risked a glance at Frost, who gave him a quick nod of encouragement, two tanned fingers going pale on Rufus's wrist. Angelo, suddenly afraid, pelted down the stairs to do as he was told. 

  


"Is he all right?" Angelo asked, an hour later, when Frost appeared in the doorway of the basement lab, looking grim behind his ever-present sunglasses. Angelo had been doing busy work, cleaning test tubes and straightening papers, not wanting to linger outside Rufus's shut door, and get in the way. Reno had been there, pale under his scars, and hadn't even seemed to see his youngest brother. 

"It is in its early stages," Frost said, grimly. "But the symptoms are unmistakable." 

"The Corel virus." Angelo sat down heavily in his chair. "Oh, god." He had known, of course, and so had everyone else, but still. "Reno said he'd been working himself to death, it must have made it easier for him to catch it." 

"There is more," Frost said. He was not the kind of man to spare bad news, even at a time like this. "There have been four registered cases in Junon, and two in Kalm. Zack tells me that Costa del Sol has no symptoms, but I cannot expect them to hold out for long."

Angelo blinked. "Rufus was obviously exposed in Corel, but how did it spread to Junon and Kalm so fast? That's halfway across the globe. Surely not through human carriers?" 

"No." Frost was silent for such a long moment that Angelo almost thought he would say no more, but when he spoke again, it was as if he had pronounced doom on the world. "It was carried in the lifestream." 

  


"The Jenova virus?" Tseng repeated, looking up from the printout Frost had given him. 

"The structural pattern of the virus is unmistakable, as is the transmission through the lifestream. Even the symptoms: fever, delirium, slow deterioration of healthy tissue on a cell to cell basis, all indicate her basic replicator instinct. The cells are not dying, they are being replaced, like a cancer." 

"How is that possible? Strife, did you and your companions not destroy all the collections of Jenova cells?" 

Cloud opened his mouth, but Vincent spoke over him. "We destroyed the conscious collective of Jenova, but some of her cells still remain on the planet." 

"Currently in the world there are only three people who have any living Jenova cells in their bodies. Zack Fair was a successful clone, if an incomplete one, and Vincent Valentine had the cells introduced into his body by Dr. Hojo. And then, lastly," Frost reached up, removed his sunglasses, and green cat-slit eyes narrowed at Tseng. "There is me." 

"Only three?" Tseng's eyes were sharp, despite the dark circles under them. "I understood that Lucretia was still living, after a fashion, due to the Jenova cells in her body." 

"Lucretia is dead," Vincent replied, with grim certainty. "I will vouch for that myself." The mansion itself seemed to soak up Vincent's words, turning them over carefully, before exhaling them out again in a quiet sigh. 

Cloud looked at the former Turk a long moment. "I never asked," he said, "Where you went during that last week before meteor." 

"I did only what I was asked to do." Vincent held Cloud's eyes with his own for a long moment, and it was Cloud who at last turned away. 

"Jenova first destroyed the Ancients with a virus," Cloud said to Tseng and Frost. "We found out that much from Ilfalna's reports to Dr. Gast. The virus is Jenova's first, simplest attack." 

"As the cells grow in others," Frost said, "Her strength and her consciousness grows again. Before, with the small amount of her remaining influence separated only into the three of us, she slept, and we could each control the percentage of her power within our bodies." 

"To a degree," Vincent demurred. Tseng's gaze lingered on him, even though when he spoke, it was to Frost.

"I trust there is a reason we were not told of this?" 

"Simply enough, we were unaware of the danger," Frost explained. "We knew that a handful of Jenova cells remained, but even with the considerable amount in me, once our natural lifespans are through--" Vincent made a vague noise in the collar of his cloak "--the cells would not be able to survive. They haven't the strength to regenerate in our bodies, not without Jenova herself to direct them. We have discussed this, the three of us and Cloud, and saw no other option but to let it die out."

Tseng was thoughtful. "Then they would die with you, and Jenova would truly be gone from the planet. But the virus replicates her cells?" 

"In the host's body, yes." Frost continued, "If she were to regain herself, to build up on a cellular level over thousands through this virus, then any one of us could become her, at any time. She can control minds as easily as we can control our own limbs, if not more easily. It is a simple as a nervous response, to her." Frost for the first time let emotion into his voice, just a darkening, as though with sorrow. "I know all too well." 

"Then we have no choice," Vincent said, quietly. "The three of us must be destroyed." 

Cloud made a noise of protest. "We've been through this. You can't kill yourselves just to destroy her! There has to be another way--Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it. You can't just ask us to kill you. Vincent!" The older man turned away, and Cloud sought support elsewhere. "Sephiroth--" 

"I agree," Frost said, before Cloud could continue. "But I agree with you, Strife, that it is too late to simply destroy what remains of Jenova, so you can stop swearing to do what you are unable to. The seed has spread, it germinates, and killing the root will not solve anything now." 

"So what do you suggest?" Tseng asked, seemingly calm, but his hands were gripped too tightly around one another. 

"We are immune to the virus," Sephiroth said, "because we are carriers. But to use our blood would only make the virus thrive. What we require is one in whom Jenova cells were introduced, but whose immune system was too strong, and produced antibodies to fight them." He turned to Cloud. "You, Strife." 

Cloud stared. "But I wasn't suitable as a host. Hojo said--" 

"You were unsuitable as a host because your body reacted violently to the cells, as a natural defense. Most failed clones simply died from the process and mako exposure." 

"When you were carried out of Nibelheim by Zack," Vincent said, "You were ill with the fever and delirium of the Jenova virus. And yet you lived. You are the cure." 

"Is it so simple?" Tseng asked. "Can you produce a vaccine from Cloud?" 

"Not directly," Frost said, and slipped his shades back on. "There is a chance that he might have a few active cells, and the mako in his blood would make it hard for a non-mako enhanced person to accept a transfusion. My assistant has a theory that we can produce a weakened strain of the virus with Cloud's antibodies, separate the mako influenced elements to make it compatible, and introduce it as a milder strain in an uninfected, non mako-enhanced person. We can develop a vaccine from the antibodies of the survivor of the lesser strain." 

Cloud shut his mouth, audibly. "I just thought I was a failure," he muttered, mostly to himself. 

"This weaker strain," Tseng said. "You need an uninfected person to introduce it to? It cannot be administered directly to the victims?" 

"I'm sorry," Frost said, as if reading Tseng's thoughts. "Rufus is too weak to accept it." 

"I was thinking of myself," Tseng stood. "I could carry it." 

"You are needed here," Vincent said. "It would not do for you to fall ill. Besides, you too are probably immune to the virus." 

"How so?" Tseng demanded. "I don't see why--" 

"Because of your assistance, some months ago, when I came to inquire about the records left in the mansion. You are both aware," Vincent turned to Frost and Cloud, "that my blood cells, tainted as they are, are weak. If I do not supplement them with new ones on a frequent basis, I sink into the same kind of sleep I was in for so long, in this very house. Tseng was kind enough to offer me his help when I had need of it, here." 

"I was unaware of this," Frost said, frowning. 

Quietly, Cloud said, "I usually do it." 

"I am sorry, Tseng," Vincent lowered his head. "But you already carried my blood, and I did not think a small amount of my taint would harm you. I did not foresee this. I know you would prefer to be the one to save Rufus." 

"I would not change my fate," Tseng said softly, his dark eyes on Vincent's red ones. "Father." 

The brief silence that followed was broken by Cloud, who after looking from the Turk to Vincent and back again, grumbled that nobody told him anything. 

"At any rate," Frost continued, "Angelo needs to prepare a serum from Cloud." 

"I trust you did not tell him who you were, General?" Tseng smiled wryly at Frost, who solemnly shook his head. 

"No. I told him I was a former clone, much like Mr. Fair, and that was how I came by the strain." 

"One more thing." Tseng looked down at his folded hands. "You said the Jenova cells replace the natural ones. So then, the victim would not die, only be transformed into a host?" 

"Your logic is sound, with one exception. Hojo used an artificial form of the virus, from me, to create the clones. So yes, by that token, the victims would survive. However, survival is a loose term. Their bodies would be mutated, but functional. However," there might, almost, have been compassion in Frost's tone, "their minds would be gone. They would exist only to serve Jenova's will." Frost's inhuman eyes flashed green towards Cloud, briefly. "Their previous identity would be erased, and they would kill anyone, friend or foe, at Jenova's command. Besides, only one in ten survived the transformation process. The rest--" 

"The creatures in the Nibelheim reactor," Cloud said. 

"Poor bastards," Vincent muttered.

Tseng had closed his eyes. "Very well," he said, after a moment. "Have Angelo make the serum. Who would be best for the weaker virus?" 

Frost was thoughtful. "If we are to introduce it to Rufus, a blood relative would be best." 

Cloud snorted. "Has he got any blood relatives left?" 

Tseng reached over and pressed a small button on Rufus's desk. "I know just the person." 

  


"Are you sure? This--" Angelo lifted the syringe in his hand as if he were an artist surveying an unsatisfactory sketch, "--is mostly hypothesis and hope. I haven't even got a graduate degree." 

"You have Frost's respect." Tseng managed a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "That's better than a graduate degree."

"Well, it's settled then." Elena nodded. "What do you need me to do, Angelo? You need my arm?" 

"Well, yes, sir. Ma'am. Elena." Angelo stumbled over the titles, and plunged ahead. "You're related to Rufus?" 

Elena nodded, unzipping her jacket. "I'm his half-sister. His father got around a lot, and we're probably related to half of Migar, honestly. It's not entirely a secret, but I guess most people don't know. I tried to keep it quiet myself, before... everything." 

Cloud, who was on his way out and nursing his own arm, pulled a face. "What is it with you people?" He shook his head, and didn't wait for an answer. "Have Tseng call me if you need anything, Angelo." 

"Elena," Tseng began, "If this fails, there is no cure. I would have preferred to keep you out of danger. It is your choice." 

Angelo could have been wrong, but he thought sure he saw Elena blush, and fight not to smile. "Well," she said, not as steady as before, "We all do what we can do best for Rufus, sir. And this is what I can do best." She held out her bared arm to Angelo, and her fingers were trembling, just slightly. "Shoot me up, kid." 

"Ms. Elena, I don't know that--" 

She flashed him a wink. "It's okay, Angelo. Really." 

Angelo swallowed hard, and ran the alcohol-dampened cotton ball over the inside of Elena's arm. "I'm glad you think so, lady, because I'm scared to death." 

  


"You did _what_?" Reeve looked distinctly ruffled, hair trailing in his eyes, his jacket in slung over one arm, tie undone. Elena, as cool and smooth as her satin counterpane, blinked innocence at him with brown eyes. 

"You're back early," she said, pleasantly. "Did you cut your hair? I never knew it was curly." 

"I realize," Reeve said, ignoring the comment, "That everyone in this mansion and possibly this town is certifiable, but I had hoped that you at least were not completely off the deep end."

"Don't have moogles, Reeve." Elena put her hands on her hips. "It had to be done. Besides, it's a milder strain, I'll be up and about in less than a week." She smoothed her blankets. "I'm not even sick yet, but Rude insisted I stay put." 

Reeve ran a hand through his hair. He had cut it, but only because Junon was the only place on the planet with a decent barber shop, and he had been feeling rather weedy lately. "I know, I know. Tseng told me about the vaccine theory." He shook his head. "But I leave for three days and you decide to voluntarily inject a lethal, incurable virus into your bloodstream?" 

"Lethal?" Elena tilted her head. "Nobody's died yet." 

Reeve balled up his suit jacket and flung it at a chair. "That's why I came back early," Reeve's scowl faltered, replaced by worry. "Tseng didn't want to risk me staying in Junon. Three people died last night. We've got our first victims." 

  


Soon the number became seven, then fifteen. For the second time in less than a decade, the light in the basement of the Shinra mansion did not go out for days. Elena gave in soon enough to the microbes in her bloodstream, but her fever seemed milder, her breathing not quite so labored as Rufus's. 

And Rufus was enough to make any hopes seem fragile things indeed. Tseng was unruffled, as always, but the lines around his eyes seemed a bit more pronounced, the hush on the third-story landing outside their room was broken only by the sounds of Rufus's shallow breathing. The dogs, banished from the room, lay on their bellies outside the door, and would not be budged with any food or pleading. Angelo, whose frayed nerves had brought out both his no-nonsense streak and his temper, finally had to order Tseng to get six hours of uninterrupted sleep at the inn, or, Turk or no, he was going to personally bean Tseng on the head with a frying pan. 

"We can't afford for you to get sick!" he had said, voice carrying clearly in the hall. "Nobody is big enough to carry _you_ to bed!" 

From their spot on the landing, Reno told Reeve, in an attempt to cheer him up, that Frost seemed to have a good effect on his youngest brother. "Guess all of us got a streak of asshole somewhere, right?" 

Reeve griped the balcony intently. "You know him. You think this'll work?" 

Reno's smile seemed a bit weak, faltering. "It's got to," he said, as Angelo shook his head and stomped back up the steps to the lab, "Phoenix came down with it last night. Diego's a mess. We haven't told Angelo, yet. He's got enough riding on him." 

Distantly, the door to the basement slammed. Reeve shook his head. "I hope Elena gets better soon." He scratched at a beard in need of trimming. "Because if she doesn't, I don't know what the hell we're going to do." 

"Easy enough," Reno said, and there was no humor in his voice. "We're all gonna die." 

  


Four days later it was a pale and shadow-eyed group around the island in the kitchen, coffee cradled forgotten in four pairs of hands.

The death toll was sixty-four, established and still-surviving cases totaling a hundred and thirty-one, with victims in every settlement, every corner of the globe. Frost had ordered patients to be sedated, supposedly for their comfort, but really to slow down the rising wave of Jenova's influence. Frost, looking drawn, had given Angelo one of the spare handguns, loaded it, shown him how to take the safety off, and told him to keep it on him at all times. When Angelo had asked why, Frost had told him that in the event of any strange behavior on the part of his lab supervisor, he was to empty the clip into Frost's chest first, and ask questions later. 

He was wearing the shoulder holster now; they all were, even at the kitchen table. Tseng had ordered no one to go around without weapons, and carried one himself, into Rufus's room. When Reno had seen him doing it, he had wondered aloud to Rude if Tseng was packing heat to shoot Rufus, or to shoot himself. Rude's answer was succinct enough. 

"Both."

They'd all begun to forget what life had been like before, not even two weeks ago. At least, the ones with time on their hands enough to wonder. Angelo was too busy writing frantically on a report, a cup of coffee and some toast at his elbow, untouched, next to the mug of tea steeping for Frost, who had barely come above stairs in the past week. Angelo's hair needed a washing and he was muttering to himself as he wrote, incomprehensible patterns of numbers and figures and charts spilling out from his fingers. Reeve stared blankly at nothing, having slept only in snatches on the chair in his room, reading a book whose title he couldn't remember, listening to the rasp of Elena's breath. She had been sleeping soundly when a very subdued Reno knocked on the door, and asked if he'd like some coffee. 

Reno simply held his coffee mug in both hands, watching the surface as if scrying for answers. Rude had brewed him a pot of his favorite, which Reno had uncharacteristically shared around without protest, but hadn't touched his own. Phoenix had only gotten worse, and Diego was fraying under pressure. That being bad enough, Angelo had found out about his brother's illness, and found out badly. Diego had had him by the shirtfront demanding to know why Phoenix had gotten sick and he hadn't. 

"What the hell kind of virus is this, anyway? _I_ should be sick! It should be _me_ , dammit!"

Angelo, with remarkable calm, had steered Diego into the kitchen and brewed him a very strong mug of something that had Diego sleeping on the foyer couch for the better part of a day, probably the first rest he'd gotten in a week. 

Rude looked around at the other three and sighed. Tseng, at least, wasn't down, so maybe he was actually asleep, not sitting by Rufus's bed, counting his breaths. Rude snorted. Yeah, right. None of them had been in to see Rufus; Tseng didn't want to risk contact. It was easy enough to guess, from the tilt of their boss's shoulders, that the president was failing fast. He topped off cups that didn't need it, and nudged Angelo's toast towards a hand that had been groping for a pen, but finding toast instead, put it to a mouth that chewed automatically. 

Reno said, very quietly, "I wish I was drunk." 

In the doorway, someone coughed. "What are the chances of me getting a cup of that coffee?" 

Everyone looked at Elena as if trying to remember who she was, then the room exploded with Reeve, Reno, and Angelo all talking at once. Elena waved them down, wincing. She looked thin in Reeve's bathrobe, and she was holding onto the doorframe, but her eyes were clear. "All right! All right! Yes, Reeve, I will go back to bed. Yes, Angelo, I can handle losing a little blood for Rufus. No Reno, I'm not up to a celebratory nookie, but it's good to see you smiling. You look like hell. Now can I have a cup of coffee here or does someone have to get shot?" 

As one, everyone in the room offered her their undrunk mugs. 

  


"Do you believe in god?" Ten vials, looking pitifully small and fragile on the clutter of the worktable. Angelo slid the last one into the slot remaining. 

"That depends," Frost said, after a moment to consider, "on what you would call god." 

Angelo spun the centrifuge once on its axis, with his finger. "Someone to listen to prayers." 

"I have never thought prayer a futile activity," Frost said. "But it is not one I ever recall engaging in, personally." 

"Maybe I'm just being stupid," Angelo said wearily, leaning back in his chair, "to think that some all powerful benevolent being would give a damn about us." 

Frost lifted his head, as though listening. "I don't see why not, Mr. Montague. I wouldn't presume to be the definitive voice on the subject." He paused. "Have you brought flowers down here?" 

Angelo blinked at his lab partner. "No, why?" 

Frost turned his head again, inhaling. "Curious." He shook himself, and handed Angelo the globe of mimic materia he had been waiting on, and a set of empty vials. "At any rate, we've done all we can. Prayer, Mr. Montague, is all we have left to us." 

Angelo pushed up his glasses, and pressed the button on the centrifuge. "Well, then, here goes nothing." 

  


"None of them have seen him, have they?" Frost leaned over the still form on the bed, flickering a pen light across irises that should have been pale blue, but were now shot with crimson, the pupil flattening into a narrow slit. It didn't much rattle Frost, as long as they still dilated properly, even if they did look too much like the ones he saw in the mirror every day. 

"No." Tseng said. "Other cases that have progressed to this degree have been isolated. We wouldn't want to start a panic." 

"It is still in the early stages," Frost said, and felt for the vein in Rufus's inner elbow. "No external symptoms, beyond the eyes. If this works, he should revert to normal within a few days." 

Rufus moaned softly, but the sedatives he'd been given were more than enough to keep him down. Frost finished with the hypodermic, and laid the empty syringe down on the tray. "Now all we can do is wait." 

"And if it doesn't work?" Tseng asked.

Frost lifted his shoulder. "Then we will also know within a few days. The sedatives will not be enough to hold him down once the virus takes over fully." 

There was the distinct sound of the safety being released on a small, one-handed pistol. "I am prepared for that contingency, Frost." 

Frost eyed him levelly. "Of course." He straightened, and tucked Rufus's arm back under the sheets. "Watch him carefully. I'm leaving now to administer the serum in Corel, and Cloud and Zack and Vincent are already on their way to other areas. Radio me if he worsens, or if the fever breaks. Angelo is seeing to inoculations in town, be sure all of your people get one." 

"I'm grateful, Sephiroth." Tseng bowed. "We owe you much." 

Frost stilled, his hand on the door. "You might want to delay your gratitude, Tseng. First make sure it works. You know my radio frequency." 

The door closed softly behind him. Tseng sat down on the bed, and brushed back gold hair that seemed to have paled. His hand lingered on the side of Rufus's face. 

"Please." 

  


The brass handle of the door was warm to Rufus's cold hand, as he shivered on the snow-dusted sidewalk outside La Vitesse. The bell jangled pleasantly as he entered, and somewhere in the small of his back a few knots of tension subsided, unraveling. The girl who took his coat was one he didn't recognize, but gods, it had been so long since he'd had a second to come down here it was no wonder that the staff had rotated a bit. 

Rebecca was at the counter, her dark hair pulled back into a twist. Rufus smiled at her as she waved him to his favorite booth, and he wondered if it was maybe the lamplight that made her look so young. Her beauty lingered in her face and in her younger days she must have been astonishing, side by side with Turks who had names like Rodriguez and LaVine, Everett and Valentine. 

He nodded here and there to people he knew, and it must have been a long time indeed since he'd been here, as he could swear it had been years since he'd seen them last. Tseng must be late, he thought, looking at his watch as he sat down in his booth. Well, no wonder, they'd all been so busy lately. So worn thin with work, and this place was really amazing, Rufus mused, as he accepted a latte with just the right amount of foam, because he couldn't clearly remember what it was he'd been working on, or when he decided to give it up and just come down. Not that it mattered. He sunk back into the plush velvet booth, wrapping his fingers around the smooth porcelain cup of coffee, and feeling like he could breathe for the first time in weeks. 

Someone was at the piano but it wasn't Rude, although he wore a Turk suit and played with a kind of lazy grace Rufus had come to associate with the tall shaved Turk. Rufus frowned. Maybe he was a new recruit. Hadn't Tseng sent him a memo about that? He'd ask his secretary, she'd know, but what with the haze of paperwork on the desk he wouldn't be surprised if the entire company had gone bankrupt and no one had told him because of one mislaid memorandum. 

Someone was singing and Rufus, cup halfway to his mouth, stopped before taking his first sip. It was familiar, that voice, not quite smooth and polished enough for the _Loveless_ musical but then he'd never been fond of the interminable thing. Someone was leaning on the piano-playing Turk's shoulder, a sparkle of white spangled evening gown. It was her low smoky voice that matched the bar. 

Rufus found himself suddenly wondering what was keeping Tseng so long. 

The vocalist finished to a smattering of polite applause, but she was more interested in the compliments of her accompanist, as he leaned in to murmur something in her ear. She laughed, and it was the laugh that gave it away, even before she stood and her petite shape glittered against the black lacquered piano like a diamond set in onyx, the fall of her gold hair thick and rich and all the colors of Rufus's own. 

"Maman?" 

She made a little gasp of surprise, turning away from the Turk and her blue eyes lit up with delight as she saw her son. "Darling! What in the world are you doing here?" Easy as fog rolling off a hillside she swept down the three steps to where he stood by his booth, and clasped both his hands in her satin-gloved own. "Let me see you!" His height had easily overtaken hers since last he'd seen her; she held on to his hands and stepped back to look at him. It made Rufus feel, as he had always felt around his mother, like they were both dancing. "So grown up! You look marvelous." Her fingers ruffled his hair. "So handsome!" 

Rufus had meant to ask his mother what she was doing here, but then he realized that of course his mother should be here, and instead he murmured how lovely she looked, how very long it had been since he'd seen her dressed up and laughing. She blushed like a girl and tapped a finger on his chest, warning him to watch that charm around the ladies, or it would get him into no end of trouble. 

"I don't suppose you remember Raife, do you sweetheart?" she caught Rufus's arm and led him over to the piano, where the Turk was standing and straightening his ponytail. "He was my bodyguard when you were little, do you remember? Oh, but he often wasn't around when you were, I suppose you don't recall...?" She seemed disappointed, as though she very much wished Rufus could remember him. 

"It's all right, Eleanor." Raife clasped Rufus's free hand in his own, familiarly. "Good too meet you, Rufus. Hear you've done wonderfully in your dad's place." The Turk had a firm handshake, and an easy smile that reminded Rufus of Reno. 

Shouldn't Reno be here too? Damn them, they were both late. He'd wanted them to meet his mother.

"Thank you." Rufus hesitated. "You do look familiar... I think Rude might have mentioned--" 

"Rude!" Raife brightened. "Man, I've missed that punk. How's he doing these days?" 

"Fine..." Rufus said, distantly, trying to connect Rude and Raife. Raife? Raife, of course. Raife was the Turk that had been killed before Reno took his place. Had been killed... killed. Before Reno, a week before Rufus's mother... 

Rufus turned around, his eyes flashing around the bar, at all the faces he hadn't seen for so long. Rebecca-- Rebecca had refused to leave La Vitesse when Meteor had fallen, and the bar itself, the piano and gardens and velvet-cushioned booths was all... was al...

"Where's Tseng?" he managed, and almost violently wrenched his hand from his mother's. "Why isn't he here?" 

"Darling, really. You have to wait, I'm sure he won't be long." Eleanor put a hand on her son's shoulder, squeezing gently, but his eyes were still on the door. "Sweetheart, you look so tired." 

Rufus was still staring at the door, and did not see Raife bend down to murmur something in Eleanor's ear. "Yes," she sighed, sadly. "Yes, of course you're right. Rufus, Rufus, love, listen to me, now." She reached out to touch his hair, and Rufus tore his gaze from the door to look at her. Her eyes were too bright, going liquid, and it was only with effort that she continued. "Oh, Rufus, I would love to keep you here, really, really I would." She slid her hand down his sleeve and twined his fingers with her own. "I've missed you so much, not seeing you grow up, not getting to talk to you. But darling I really don't think you ought to be here now, really I don't." She smiled, and the tears shook themselves free of her heavy gold eyelashes, and Rufus didn't know he was crying too until she pulled a handkerchief from her dress and wiped his face with it. 

"Maman--" 

"There, now. Don't cry, it'll be all right." She looked at him as if to engrave him on her eyes, her face fierce and proud and dazzling. "Go on, now, Rufus. The door, right there. It'll let you out, back to him." She stepped away, her fingers sliding from Rufus's, and Raife's hands curled protectively around her shoulders. Eleanor's smile was wise, and her eyes shone. "I know what it's like to love a Turk." 

Rufus reached out, just one more second, just to hold her a little bit longer, to tell her so much, he missed her, he loved her, he forgave her, he understood, but the door swung wide and La Vitesse whirled away in a spiral of green and black. His own voice woke him, rough with sickness and days of disuse. Arms were tight around him, no doubt he had lunged up into them, sobbing for his mother. And he really didn't care, burying his face in Tseng's oddly unkempt hair and weeping. 

  


"Sir, I'm really not sure you're up to this." 

"The world doesn't wait, Mr. Montague." Rufus rifled the papers on his desk, and frowned at an empty coffee cup. "Your brother's up and about, isn't he?" 

Angelo fidgeted. "He's a quick healer, sir." 

Rufus tightened his lips. "Hmm." He let Angelo squirm a long moment while he read the report on his desk. "Tell me, Angelo, did Tseng put you up to fussing over me? Or perhaps Rude?" 

Angelo went pale. "Actually, ah, it was Reno." 

Rufus blinked, mild surprise in his blue eyes. "Really? How astonishing. Well then, this all seems to be in order. Frost tells me you've had a good four-day sleep, so I'll expect you on the job bright and early tomorrow." 

"On the job?" Angelo honestly expected to go back home, now that the crisis was averted. They'd gotten the last reports of recoveries just yesterday morning. "Sir?" 

"Of course." Rufus smiled faintly. "If we're going to be manufacturing supplies of the vaccine, then we'd better have a biologist on hand, shouldn't we?" 

"But we've already inoculated the whole planet--" 

"I believe," Rufus said, staring thoughtfully at the report, "that the birth rate is up these days. And those little darlings need vaccinations just like everybody else. And being that it is not a time of mass crisis, I don't feel quite so bad about charging for them. I'm not a philanthropist. Got to pay for costs, wouldn't you agree?" 

Angelo nodded slowly. "Yes... yes, I suppose so." 

Rufus stood up. "Really, Angelo, loosen up. We don't pitch people out of windows." 

Angelo sighed relief. "No, no of course you don't, sir." 

"...Anymore," Rufus demurred. Angelo went the color of oatmeal, and Rufus laughed. "Angelo. I'm joking. Frost has a report for you as well, he should be sending them fairly regularly from Costa del Sol. Is there anything you need for your lab?" 

Angelo's breath caught audibly. "My--my lab?" 

"Of course." Rufus lifted his eyebrows. "Frost has facilities in Costa del Sol, of course, and so yours will be here. Is the basement inadequate? I am aware that Elena finds it rather uncomfortable, but if it would be suitable for you to do your work in, I would like it to be well-equipped. Write up anything you need, and I'll have Rude take it to Frost with the mail, this afternoon." He paused. "And I'd like you to talk to Reeve. He has ideas about a gold-chocobo courier service for civilian use. I'm sure with the two of you and your problem solving skills, you can work the kinks out?" 

Angelo simply gaped. "I-- sir--" 

Rufus waved at him. "Thank me later, Angelo. I work people to death, trust me. Go on, now. I know you're dying to spread the news. I believe Reno was down in the kitchen, working on lunch." 

Angelo had enough presence of mind to bow, and in the process of leaving nearly trampled Tseng, who had just come in. "Sorry sir, didn't see you-- Reno! Renooo!" 

Tseng watched him go, as Rufus was too busy scowling at his laptop. "That wasn't very nice, about the windows." 

Rufus shrugged, scribbling out a memo to Reeve about structural reinforcements on the west side of the Corel Dam. "Really, he deserved it for taking me seriously. Like we'd toss people out of windows." He folded the note, and the grin was one that not many people had ever seen. "Not near enough stories, here." 

Tseng smiled. "It's good to see you feeling better, Rufus." 

"Better?" Rufus made a face. "Nothing of the sort. What have you been doing to my files? I haven't been able to find a thing all morning. And you've adjusted my chair, I feel like a little kid with my feet dangling. And when was the last time this place got a dust run?" 

Tseng walked across the rug and put his hands flat on Rufus's desk. "Sir?" 

Rufus looked perfectly innocent. "Yes, Tseng?" 

"Shut up." And leaning down, Tseng made sure that Rufus did just that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Elena is related to Rufus! It's a story we never got to write, so uh, sorry about that sudden turn. We were big into making unrelated people related. Cloud has every right to be exasperated with us. 
> 
> La Vitesse is 'Speed' in French and is from Eddie Izzard's Dress to Kill tour (we said it sounded like a fancy restaurant as a joke, and it stuck). I've been in lots of places that have bits of La Vitesse, and so have you. You know the one, how you felt when you got your favorite table, when the waiter knows you on sight. It's a little bit like heaven, and a lot like home.


End file.
